


Doubt Comes In

by Beckers522



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angsty Crowley (Good Omens), Best Friends, Doubt, Friendship/Love, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Inspired by Hadestown, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Sad Ending, Song: Doubt Comes In, Worried Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 14:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21076481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckers522/pseuds/Beckers522
Summary: Aziraphale was late.Crowley sat as still as he could, trying not to draw attention to himself. Trying not to think about how the wooden bench was hitting him in all the wrong places. How it dug into the back of his knees and tugged at the base of his fluffy blonde curls as he lounged in the middle of the park, watching. Waiting.Wishing his angel would come back to him safe and sound.This whole plan of theirs had been incredibly risky. Crowley had said so from the start, but Aziraphale had been so sure that this was what Agnes had meant. That Agnes could never be wrong. That they would be back on Earth well before lunchtime.Lunchtime had come and gone and still there was no Aziraphale---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Or, Aziraphale is discovered during the body swap and Crowley must venture down into Hell to save his angel. The stakes are high, but the task is simple: walk out of Hell without turning back.Based off the story of Orpheus and Eurydice and the musical Hadestown. Heavily inspired by the song "Doubt Comes In" and @gemennair 's request on tumblr.





	Doubt Comes In

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the result of a prompt I saw on @gemennair 's tumblr page earlier today. It takes place during the body swap and is inspired by the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. I almost exclusively listened to the song "Doubt Comes In" from Hadestown while writing this. If you read closely, you can probably tell :)
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this story I threw together. If you like it, feel free to leave comments and kudos, especially comments. I adore reading them <3
> 
> If you have any other neat ideas for Good Omens fics, feel free to hit me up on tumblr (@braver-stronger-smarter). I'm always up for writing more about these two idiots!

Aziraphale was late.

Crowley sat as still as he could, trying not to draw attention to himself. Trying not to think about how the wooden bench was hitting him in all the wrong places. How it dug into the back of his knees and tugged at the base of his fluffy blonde curls as he lounged in the middle of the park, watching. Waiting. 

Wishing his angel would come back to him safe and sound.

This whole plan of theirs had been incredibly risky. Crowley had said so from the start, but Aziraphale had been so sure that this was what Agnes had meant. That Agnes could never be wrong. That they would be back on Earth well before lunchtime.

Lunchtime had come and gone and still there was no Aziraphale. He watched as dozens of people walked by. Mothers pushing strollers. Young humans walking their dogs. Children playing tag as their parents yelled at them not to run so fast. Eyes scanning every inch of the pathway on either side, looking for just a glimpse of a black leather jacket or a flash of stylized red hair. 

Constantly, the demon had to remind himself it was  _ him _ that he was looking for. Each time Crowley caught a brief flicker of blonde hair in his peripherals, his heart nearly lept out of his chest, only to be sternly reminded that the blonde half of their whole was already here. Red. Black. Casual coolness and dark glasses obscuring a serpentine amber gaze. That was the Aziraphale the demon was looking for. Not the round, jovial, wickedly smart and unimaginably kind bookshop owner he’d grown so used to over the centuries.

Children screeched with laughter. Birds sang overhead. Families sat down to enjoy the warm spring afternoon, with their typical ‘day of rest’ providing plenty of time to soak in the warmth, blissfully unaware how their world had almost ended the day before. Unaware how Crowley’s world was currently crumbling out from beneath his feet.

At what point did he give up? When did Crowley say ‘enough was enough’ and charge into Hell, guns blazing, to rescue Aziraphale once again? When did the chance that something had gone wrong outweigh the chance that he blew the angel’s cover after this much time had passed?

As the evening sunset fell bleeding against the sky, with brilliant reds and oranges and golds, the demon decided he could wait no longer. Something had gone horribly, terribly wrong. He could not let himself pretend a second more. His angel was in trouble, and Crowley was the only left in all of creation who could help him now.

Come Hellfire or Holy Water, he was going to get Aziraphale out of there, if it was the last thing he ever did.

* * *

The road to hell was paved with crumbling slate steps, hanging over an inky blackness that seemed to swallow everything whole. Crowley clung to the furthest wall, his wings spread out to steady him, to provide him some sort of comfort that if he did slip and fall, or if the step crumbled beneath him, that he wouldn’t  _ immediately _ be sucked up into the ever present darkness swirling below him, watching his every move.

“Pull yourself together,” the demon hissed at himself, moving a hand to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, freezing when he remembered he didn’t have sunglasses on, because he wasn’t Crowley, he was  _ Aziraphale. _ There was still a chance they hadn’t figured anything out and his angel was just taking a really long time. Now was not the time to break character. Not until he knew what was really going on.

A storm of relief and fear washed through the demon-turned-angel as he rounded the final bend of the spiral staircase, the wide double doors coming into sight at last.

“You can handle these guys.” It was a lie, but when had that ever stopped him before? “You can do this. You can find a way to get him out.”

Exactly three seconds before he reached the handle, the doors swung inward, opening without his prompting, to reveal a hall full of demons, all huddled behind a single throne where a very large demon, with a halo of horns, burning red skin, and black glittering eyes was sitting.

They were waiting for him.

“Crawly!” Lucifer, King of Hell, The Bright and Morningstar, declared as the disguised demon walked across the threshold. “So nice of you to join us. We were beginning to think you weren’t going to come.”

Swiftly, not breaking stride, Crowley searched the room, his eyes falling quickly on the familiar, yet unfamiliar figure kneeling off to the side, a demonic hand on each shoulder, keeping him forcibly in place. 

“Come in!” the Demon King’s voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling, reverberating off the stone walls, darting around the columns that held this place up. Crowley’s eyes drifted to the bare walls, examining the familiar arches of raised stone outlining where the stained glass images would have gone if he’d been standing in a church instead of inside Hell’s front doors, waiting to be handed the words that would mean the end of him. “Please, I  _ insist. _ ”

Crowley stepped forward until he was positioned a few feet in front of the throne. He gazed up at Lucifer, trying to keep a neutral face. The demon did not cower. He did not bow. This was no longer his home. Lucifer was no longer his King. Crowley had chosen a different path long ago.

“You two have been very busy,” Lucifer continued, motioning with his left hand toward the two demons holding Aziraphale down. Immediately, they pulled the red-haired figure up and practically dragged him over to where Crowley-as-Aziraphale was standing. With one sidelong glance, the demon put away his pearly white wings, worried he might knock more than a feather out of place with what was about to happen.

“I have to say, you’re lucky that I bothered to check in on all of these bumbling fools,” the Demon King growled, causing the demons nearest him to shrink back. “Can you believe they were about to let this impostor go? Because they thought he was immune to Holy Water? It was a close call. Too close for my comfort.”

Again, the demons near him trembled. Crowley bit back a smart retort where he explained to the creature towering over them the precise definition of the word ‘lucky’ in a not-so-polite tone. Now was not the time to be getting smart with the King of Hell. Perhaps there was still a chance for them.

“What do you want from us?” he asked, shortly. No amount of pleasantries or grovelling would save him now. If Lucifer wanted them both dead, they would go down in fire and water. If not, he would reveal to them the rules of the game soon enough.

The Demon King’s eyes glistened with anticipation, a smirk making its home on the creature’s face. “You’ve impressed me, Crawly, with your resourcefulness and gumption yesterday, despite your choice to go against my will. And your outlandish desire to  _ save humanity _ ,” he scoffed at this, as if he couldn’t fathom how Crowley could be so obsessed over the tiny. Insignificant planet. “I am prepared to offer you a trade, of sorts, if you’re interested.”

Crowley said nothing, knowing Lucifer would proposition him on his own time. Sure enough, after another heartbeat, the Demon King continued, his wry smile never once leaving his face. “I will let you walk out of here with your angel, never to be bothered by Hell again, if you do one thing for me.”

Once-amber eyes narrowed. “And what might that be?” Externally, the demon remained calm and collected, his gaze remaining on Lucifer for the entire interaction. Internally, Crowley’s mind was reeling. What could it be that Lucifer wanted him to do that would be worth the possibility of giving both of them up? Was there anything he wouldn’t do to ensure Aziraphale made it out of here safely?

“Simple,” the Demon King responded, his voice dripping malice. “All you have to do is turn around and walk. Keep walking until you reach the top step, and never look back.”

The demon paused. It seemed too simple. “What about Aziraphale?” he demanded. “I won’t leave without him.”

Lucifer laughed, low and reverberating in his chest, shaking the hall around them all. Crowley stopped himself from taking a reflexive step toward where Aziraphale was still being held. He would not crumble now. He needed to show strength, now more than ever.

“The angel would be with you, of course,” Lucifer explained. “Walking a few feet behind you, silent as a clam. You lead him up those stairs without looking back, and I’ll let you keep him until the day the world ends.”

Where was the catch? There had to be a catch. Why else would Lucifer offer up such a simple task. Crowley could climb those steps in his sleep. What was the point to all this? What was the reason behind this ridiculous game and more importantly, did it matter? If Crowley could do as Lucifer said - climb those stairs with Aziraphale in tow, then what risk did he take in deciding to play the game? They were as good as gone if he didn’t. What did he have left to lose?

“Sure,” Crowley responded, moving to stick his hands in his pants pockets, then remembering he was still Aziraphale and they were currently being blocked by his coat. “Sign me up. I walk back up those stairs without looking back and Aziraphale gets to stay with me. Forever. No more intervention from you.”

Lucifer nodded. “You have my word. But if you turn back, he stays with us. For all of eternity.”

Crowley swallowed, feeling his hands start to clam up in a very un-Crowley like fashion.

“Let’s get started.” There was no point in wasting more daylight. Maybe he and Aziraphale would get back home before dinner finished. Maybe they could still find that reservation at the Ritz.

“First things first,” the Demon King commanded. “I need you two to switch places.”

In an instant, Aziraphale was beside him and the demons were slamming their hands together. The world immediately turned on its head. Crowley felt the ground lurch underneath his feet as he was shoved violently out of Aziraphale’s body, soul spinning and swirling through the air. The sensation sucked all the breath from his lungs, pulled apart his very essence molecule by molecule until the demon was convinced he was going to explode like a supernova in the deep expanse of outer space.

As quickly as it had started, the sensation had stopped and Crowley found himself back inside his own body, Aziraphale’s hand being wrenched from his grasp as the demons that had switched to holding him dragged the angel backward toward the right side of the throne. 

Crowley lurched forward, fingertips brushing up against the angel’s palm, but was stopped with a paralyzing glare from the monstrosity sitting before him. Helplessly, he watched as his angel was ripped from his arms again, blue eyes displaying all the fear the rest of his face refused to show. Aziraphale didn’t want to die. Not after they’d come so close the day before. Not when they’d been given a second chance to finally live it the way they wanted to.

“How will I know you aren’t trying to pull one over on me?” Crowley argued, mind racing to find a way out of this. There  _ had _ to be another way to get his angel home.

Lucifer grinned, his perfect teeth lining up to form a vicious sneer. “Oh come now, Crowley,” the king of Hell chided. “Surely, you know that’s not how this works.” Crowley gritted his teeth as his former boss eyed him with glistening eyes of coal.

“Have a little  _ faith. _ ”

In that moment, Crowley knew he had lost. There was nothing he could do or say that would convince any of them to let his angel go. They had signed up to administer the test, grabbed front row seats to the show. Nothing in all of creation would get them to turn away now.

Forcing a confident smile onto his face, the demon readjusted the glasses that were now present on his face and stuck out a hand, meeting Lucifer’s amused gaze from behind the dark shades. He suppressed a shiver as the King of all Demons reached out to grab onto it, like a viper’s strike in the night. The grip was hot against his skin, tight like the feeling in his chest as Crowley glanced over at the wide-eyed angel whose sky-blue gaze had never left him.

“Right, how am I supposed to do this?”

Lucifer stood, his presence filling the room as he loomed over them all. With a broad gesture, the King of Demons directed Crowley’s attention to the door where he had entered, amusement clearly visible on his face. He wasn’t the only one. Several of the other demons watched him with glee in their devilish eyes, leaning into each other as they murmured words of anticipation.

“No touching,” the Demon King clarified. “No glances out of the corner of your eye. No cheating,  _ Crawley _ . I’ll know if you do. Walk out those doors and up the stairs you came down without looking behind you. It’s as simple as that.”

Before turning to face his exit, Crowley locked gazes with Aziraphale one more time. The angel gave him a slight, almost imperceptible nod of his head, smiling softly in the way that made Crowley’s traitorous heart sing. He could do this. It would be all too easy. Walk up the stairs without looking back. An eternity of promised peace the moment he and Aziraphale reached the top. Finally free to live on their own side. 

He could do this. The demon had run out of all other options. He  _ had _ to do this. For Aziraphale’s sake, and for his own. 

* * *

Crowley almost failed on the first step up the winding staircase. The moment he’d walked out those double doors, all noise had stopped. There was no muttering of the demons placing their bets on how high up he would fall from. No scraping of feet against stone indicating someone was following him to the bottom of the stairs. No gentle breathing upon his neck, giving him some sort of clue that he wasn’t about to make the most colossal mistake of his entire life.

Taking a deep breath, the demon stopped, hesitating to shift his weight onto that menacing stone step that was somehow staring up at him with malice, although it had no eyes with which to do so. This was a trap. It had to be. He should turn around and head back. There were only ten million of them. He’d faced the end of the world and made it through to the other side. What was ten million demons compared to the end of the world? Crowley could take them.

_ It’s alright, my dear,  _ a voice whispered in his mind, reaching down into his heart, spreading warmth as the invisible sound soaked through his entire being.  _ I am right here with you, I swear it. _

One foot up, then the next, and the next. Still there was silence, but Crowley could feel the determination building with each inch higher that he climbed. The staircase hugged the stone wall, winding its way around the inky black cavern below him. It seemed to grow bigger with each step he took, expanding outward until it touched the walls below, creeping up the walls like slithering shadows, reaching up to pull him back down to the eternal pits where he belonged.

Crowley fixed his gaze forward, forcing himself to focus on the sound of his own footsteps, climbing higher and higher with each step. He ignored the burning in his legs as the doorway to Hell grew fractionally smaller and smaller as each second passed him by. Ignored the way his ears strained, listening for any additional sound of angelic footsteps behind him, assuring him that he wasn’t alone. 

This was insanity. There was no way this scheme was going to work. Why would Lucifer agree to this? Crowley was a nobody to him - some peon sent up to Earth six thousand years ago to stir up some trouble. Well, he’d certainly stirred up plenty of trouble now, hadn’t he? What reason would the King of all Demons have to grant him this chance for mercy?

_ Where are you angel? Why can’t I hear you? Why can’t I feel you near me? _

Who did Crowley think he was, to deserve a second chance like this? Who was he to believe Lucifer would be the one to give it to him? Who did he think he was to walk away from The Bright and Morningstar without a scratch on him, the only thing that he cared about in all the world just a few steps behind him?

Lucifer wasn’t going to let Aziraphale go. He wasn’t going to keep his word. Crowley and Aziraphale were fugitives now, wanted by Heaven and Hell for treason. Lucifer gained nothing from this. If Crowley made it to the top, if he held on a little longer, Hell would lose their scapegoats. They would be down one eternal war and have no one to pin the blame on. 

The demon shivered, despite the stairwell being unusually warm.  _ Where are you Aziraphale? _

_ I am right here, Crowley, _ came the voice in his heart once more. What Crowley would give to actually be able to hear it. To know, without a doubt, that it was Aziraphale comforting him in his darkest hour. That it was Aziraphale who was cheering him on, trusting him to get them both home safely, to a dusty old bookshop and two glasses of the finest red wine. 

_ I will be, until the very end. _

He was halfway up now. An equal amount of time to turn around as it would be to keep going. Crowley’s feet seemed to make the decision on their own. What else could he do, but keep going? He couldn’t let Aziraphale down. Not now, when they’d come so close. Not now that he could literally see the light at the end of his path. Not now that the demon was mere minutes from getting everything he’d ever wanted. 

Where did he think he was going? Did Crowley really believe he could just walk out of Hell with Aziraphale in tow and live to see another day? A demon’s word was worth nothing. They would be back, next time with a vengeance. This wasn’t over. This would never be over. He would never be free of this nightmare. What was the point in anything anymore?

Silence filled the stairwell around him, the only sound to be heard for miles was the echoing of his own footsteps against the stone. Crowley tried changing up his pace. He shifted from one side of the stairs to the other, seemingly at random, skipping a step whenever he felt the whim. All the while, his ears stretched out the furthest they had ever been, searching for some sign that he was not alone. 

_ Where are you? I need you, Aziraphale. I can’t do this all alone. I can’t do this without you. _

What had he been thinking, taking on this stupid challenge? What made him think Aziraphale would even want to follow him out of here? It was Crowley’s fault they were in this mess in the first place. He’d been the one to deliver the baby, hadn’t he? How easy would it have been to simply lose the baby? Blame the blunder on the nuns. He could have figured out some way to escape punishment. He could have figured out some way to worm his way out of it - some way to keep Aziraphale far away from it all, where he’d be safe.

He had to check. Surely just a quick reach would tell him Aziraphale was still with him. All he needed was a brief brush of fabric against his fingertips. The feel of that godforsaken tartan cloth against his palm, telling him that it was all going to be alright. That they would get out of here in one piece and would be free to do as they saw fit from that moment on. Perhaps they could finally go on that picnic, or he could treat Aziraphale to dinner at the Ritz. His heart fluttered as the demon thought of the smile his angel would wear on such a momentous night. 

It almost felt like enough to keep going.

_ You are not alone. I am right behind you. I have been all along. _

This was it. Crowley stopped, breath leaving his lungs. The final step. If he placed his foot down on the grey slate stones, he would have done it. He would have bested Lucifer and all the demons of Hell. He would have his angel, safe and sound again, by his side. Never to part, for the rest of the years the world had to offer. All he had to was  _ put his foot down _ .

The demon hesitated. What if this was what Lucifer wanted? What if, by putting his foot down on the final step, he doomed Aziraphale to an eternity of torture, or worse. Contrary to Heaven, there was an abundance of Hellfire down here - plenty to completely wipe an angel from creation’s ever watchful eye.

Crowley’s heart seized in his chest, panic overtaking him as he thought of Aziraphale - brilliant, kind, gentle Aziraphale thrown screaming into those dark flames, the life literally burning away from him. It was enough to fill him with a hurricane of fear and despair. Crowley couldn’t let that happen! Not to Aziraphale. Not to the only  _ Good  _ thing left in all of Heaven or Hell or otherwise. He had to save Aziraphale!

Whirling around, a fierce determination flashing in his amber eyes, the demon took a step down the stairs, wings at the ready to pop out and fly himself back down there. Over the winding staircase, back through the double doors that lead to Lucifer’s throne. Crowley would not be made a fool of. He refused to willingly walk away from the only thing left in his life that mattered. If Lucifer wanted Aziraphale, he was going to have to pry the angel from his cold, dead hands.

So Crowley turned around. He turned around with all the speed and flair of a hero launching himself into battle, and as he did, the demon looked down to get his bearings, and the unthinkable happened. 

He was met with a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen. Attached to them was a soft, round face, with crinkle marks across the brow and at the corner of the eyelids that grew more defined whenever Aziraphale smiled or laughed.

The angel was not laughing now.

“It’s you.” The words escaped Crowley’s lips before he had a chance to stop them. His heart caught in his throat, stomach sinking past the ground at his feet, hurling itself into the bottomless pit below. He was falling, falling, falling, and it hurt so much  _ worse  _ than the first time when he’d been pushed out of Heaven. It hurt so much  _ worse _ because he’d had paradise and he’d lost it and then he’d  _ found it again _ . He’d had hope and now there was nothing. 

Aziraphale trembled, his blue eyes wide, suddenly glistening with tears. “It’s me.”

What in God’s - Satan’s - Somebody’s -  _ anybodywhowouldlisten’s  _ sake had he done? It had been a trap, and Crowley had walked right into it. He should have trusted there would be some sort of catch. Some trick to make him believe he was leaving his angel behind in this most awful of places. Some reason why he couldn’t hear his angel - couldn’t feel him near. He should have believed that it was all going to work out - should have had even an ounce of faith- and maybe things could have turned out better.

He’d never really been good at that, had he?

“Crowley,” the all-to familiar voice of his angel whispered in the space between them - not more than two feet away. Just within arm’s reach, if Crowley could just get them to move quickly enough to grab onto him. Aziraphale gazed up with him, blue eyes wider than he had ever seen them, flicking rapidly back and forth as if the angel were trying to memorize every millimeter of Crowley’s face as quickly as he possibly could. As if this would be his last chance to do so. 

“Aziraphale,” he breathed, amber eyes widening as the figure before him began to fade. He lunged forward, tripping over his own feet, stumbling down the stairs, arms flailing, grasping for something to hold onto. The demon felt his breath hitch in his throat, tears flooding his eyes, heart shattering into pieces as his knees scraped up against the ground, sending shockwaves of pain radiating down his legs into his feet and to the tips of his toes. 

Crowley felt a strangled sob dart from his lips as the glasses slipped from his face. In the shadow of the light spilling from the outside world, close enough to touch, a pair of amber eyes met two orbs of blue as the angel before him faded into nothingness. 

* * *

There was no way to tell how long he knelt there, light spilling out behind him, casting long shadows down the spiral stairs. No way to tell how long Crowley stared at his fingertips, clenching his fists in and out, in and out, wondering why they hadn’t been fast enough. Wondering why they hadn’t been strong enough to catch his beloved angel as Aziraphale had slipped away.

Aziraphale had disappeared. Aziraphale was  _ gone.  _ His angel was no more and it was all Crowley’s fault. If he’d  _ just _ hung on a little longer. If only he’d waited a few more seconds to turn around. If only he’d trusted himself, just a little bit more. He’d been so close. Just one  _ fucking _ step away. All he had to do was put that foot down and they were home free. But Crowley had been terrified he was being lead astray. He’d been terrified that by taking that last step he’d be dooming Aziraphale to an eternity trapped in Hell.

Instead, the act of turning around had signed his angel’s fate. Crowley had practically lit the match that would ultimately consume the angel in the overwhelming power of Hellfire.

How was this possible? How could Aziraphale be gone? How could this have been allowed to happen? How could the world keep spinning when the last spark of goodness had just vanished right before the demon’s eyes.

This was it. Everything was over. Crowley had lost Aziraphale, his best friend,  _ again _ . The second time in as many days.

There was no coming back from this. No more Antichrist to set the world right again. No more discorporations to recover from. Aziraphale would be destroyed. And Crowley would be forced to live on in the world that he had_ bloody_ _saved_, forever alone. Without his angel by his side.

It was an existence not worth living. 

Slowly, not making a single sound, the demon got to his feet. He turned back around, fixing his gaze on the bright light filtering in from the hole above. A few more steps and he was out, back in the lobby with the reflective tile floors and fluorescent lighting and escalators leading up to the cold, empty space of Heaven. Crowley’s amber eyes drifted over them, unseeing, heart heavier than it had ever been. Heavier than the Fall. Heavier than Eden. Heavier than learning the world was ending.

Nothing could fix this. No amount of alcohol could numb this pain and make him forget. No amount of tempting and wiling and cursing the sky could distract him from this gaping emptiness inside of him. 

One step after the other, the demon walked across the floor, his footsteps echoing clearly around him. A single set where there should have been two. Palms outstretched, he pressed against the revolving glass door, barely registering as the cool metal attempted to sooth his skin.

The cool spring air hit Crowley full force and the demon paused on the sidewalk, watching as people continued about their day, as if the world hadn’t just stopped spinning. As if Heaven hadn’t just lost it’s last ember of warmth. As if the bright beacon that was Aziraphale hadn’t just been snuffed out.

He turned toward the road, amber eyes staring unblinkingly ahead as cars rushed past, rushing to get from one place to another. Always in a rush, these humans. Hurring from point A to point B, racing each other to see who could win the race. Who could get the best job, the nicest home, the fanciest objects. Racing each other to their inevitable end.

There, under the dimming lights of the retreating sunset, Crowley began to move once more, feet landing against the pavement one after the other in a way the had been unable to do in  _ that place  _ on that staircase where he’d held his happiness in his hands and watched himself throw it away for the final time. 

For the first time since they had been invented, Crowley did not miracle the cars out of his path as he stepped down from the sidewalk and out into the street. It would be Hellfire for Aziraphale now, there was no escaping it.. The least Crowley could do was ensure that his angel did not have to face the end of his world all alone. 

They would be together again, soon.

Together in oblivion.


End file.
